


Intrepid

by fandomshere_fandomsthere



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood, I had fun writing this, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks, playing around with characters is always a good time, recklessness is Not a Good Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomshere_fandomsthere/pseuds/fandomshere_fandomsthere
Summary: Intrepid: adjective; fearless, adventurous (often used for rhetorical or humorous effect)A being without fear is dangerous not only to the people around them, but themselves. They fear nothing—not even death. So when Flug has to resort to using himself as a test subject for a substance that removes every trace of anxiety, things get a little...out of hand.





	1. A Being Without Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea after watching Thomas Sanders' video about accepting anxiety. I thought putting Flug in a similar situation could be...fun :3c

            Flug eyed the small stoppered bottle in front of him warily. Inside was a red liquid, a slightly less saturated red steam drifting off of the surface and swirling around in the bottle. He glanced down at his notebook, which was open to a page littered with chemical formulas, notes in shorthand only he understood, and little drawings that Demencia had put in the margins when he wasn’t looking. A lizard drawn in green highlighter crawled up the side of the page, the tip of its tail intersecting a thick, black pen stroke. The stroke was part of a furious circle drawn around a formula. It was the chemical makeup of the current iteration of the serum he’d spent the last week trying to create.

            It was highly dangerous. Its purpose was to completely remove the drinker’s fears. Not just phobia-type fears, either—all inhibitions, anxiety, and hesitations would completely vanish. To some, it might seem like a good thing. Others (like Flug) knew that truly having no fear was not ideal at all; no fear meant no self-preservation.

            His pen tapped thoughtfully at the top of the paper, trying to think of a name for his concoction. “Liquid Courage” seemed too on-the-nose. Flug’s narrowed gaze bore into the wall opposite him as he thought, searching his mind for the perfect word. He wrote it down as it came to him: Intrepid. Slightly intimidating, a little mysterious, a word that even sounded fearless. Maybe even foolhardy. Flug picked up the bottle of Intrepid, watching the liquid swirl around. This could be a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea. But Black Hat was impatient. He wanted a report on the serum by the next morning, and Flug had no time to go fetch (read: kidnap) more test subjects.

            “For science,” Flug sighed, raising the bottle into the air. He pulled off the cork and downed it in one go before he could change his mind. His face scrunched up reflexively—it tasted horrendous. Not that it mattered of course.

            The potion felt warm as it traveled down his esophagus and landed in his stomach, but the sensation quickly faded. Flug flipped to a new page in his notebook, pen poised and at the ready to record any changes he felt. Several minutes passed, but nothing happened. Anxious thoughts still buzzed about the scientist’s mind, reminding him of upcoming deadlines and how Black Hat would be angry if he had nothing to report tomorrow morning and reminding him of something horribly embarrassing he’d done in high school.

            With a groan of frustration, Flug covered his face with his hands. This trial made the third failed one that week. The other two had cost him his only remaining test subjects. Cleaning those cells had taken hours. Perhaps completely removing any and all fear was simply impossible. Flug had had to accept the fact that some of his experiments weren’t feasible before, and it seemed like he’d have to do that again. He was sleep-deprived, sore, and irritable. Black Hat’s wrath wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been in the past, now that Flug had gotten used to it, so he called it a night. He flicked off the lights and trudged upstairs.

* * *

 

             Mornings at Black Hat Incorporated had a certain routine. 5.0.5 made some sort of breakfast while Demencia wandered sleepily into the kitchen, her usual ponytail in a messy bun. Flug came down after Demencia, already showered (most days) and fully clothed, and made a beeline for the coffee maker. Unless Demencia was feeling unusually energetic, breakfast was quiet, the air filled mostly with yawns and the quiet sounds of chewing. Morning was one of the few constants in the relative chaos of the household.

            5.0.5 was in the kitchen, making breakfast like usual. This morning he was making pancakes (Demencia’s favorite when combined with chocolate chips). The bear enjoyed the sound of cooking food as it sizzled on the stovetop. His moment of peace was interrupted when Demencia came rushing into the kitchen, eyes wide, sniffing the air deeply.

            “Chocolate chip pancakes?” 5.0.5 nodded, and she hugged him around the middle, a grin on her face. “You’re my favorite!” She promptly sat down at the table, leg bouncing impatiently as she fiddled with her phone. Her love for chocolate was borderline concerning.

            “Morning,” came the sound of Flug’s voice, heavy with sleep.

            “Hey Flugster,” Demencia said without looking up. She listened to him shuffle about the kitchen, fetching the coffee grounds, sugar, milk, and a mug. The rich smells of brewing coffee and melting chocolate caused Demencia to salivate.

            “Hey, can you get me a—”

            Her sentence stopped short as her mouth hung open. Her phone slipped out of her hands and clattered on to the table as she stared at Flug, who was standing by the coffee maker, arms crossed and humming as the brown liquid dripped into the carafe. This would have been a perfectly normal sight—were it not for the fact that Flug was standing there in nothing but a pair of blue boxers and white socks. He wasn’t even wearing his bag or goggles.

            “Did you say something?” Flug said with a yawn. Seeing his mouth moved while he talked was so _strange._ When Demencia said nothing and continued to stare, Flug shrugged and turned back to the coffee maker, scratching his head as he did so.

            “You’re not wearing your bag,” she said, more to herself than anything. “Hell, you’re not even wearing _clothes!”_

            Flug looked down at his long bare legs and shrugged again. “Guess not. Want some coffee?”

            “Uh—sure?” Demencia crossed the room and stood next to him while he poured their coffee, one mug black and the other containing a splash of milk and a spoon of sugar. Her hands surged forward, grabbing his cheeks and turning his head towards her.

            “What are you doing?”

            Demencia paid him no mind. She was busy staring at his face, which she couldn’t believe she was seeing. She always expected something hideous, what with him hiding under that paper, but all she found was messy blond hair, green eyes, freckles, and scars covering a large portion of the left side of his face. He raised an eyebrow at her, which was slashed in half by a small scar.

            “Demencia, seriously.”

            That was it. The little gap in between his front teeth did it. “You. Are. _Adorable!”_ Demencia squealed as she pinched his cheeks. 5.0.5 looked on in concern, while Flug tried to get her off of him by tugging on her wrists, but it was useless. The lizard hybrid continued to poke and prod at him, doing her best to avoid the scar tissue. Eventually, he gave in with a sigh, slumping forward and accepting his fate.

            “Why do you stay hidden under that stupid ole bag all the time?” Demencia said with a final pinch of his cheeks. She grabbed the black mug of coffee and sat down, feet on the table.

            Flug glared at her while rubbing his now very red face. “Because I hate the way I look I guess? I don’t know, usually not having it makes me nervous.”

            “As nervous as standing half naked in the kitchen?”

            “More, probably.”

            “Well, right now, not only are you standing here without a bag on your head, you’re almost _completely_ naked.”

            Flug hummed in thought as he took a sip of coffee, leaning up against the counter. “True. I guess I don’t—” His eyes widened as he ended his sentence abruptly.

            “Fluggy?” Demencia said.

            “I don’t care,” Flug murmured. His gaze snapped over to Demencia, a huge grin on his face. “I don’t care! It works!”

            “What are you talking about?” Demencia was more than a little confused now. She watched Flug let out a whoop and punch the air triumphantly, wondering if he’d finally snapped.

            “Would someone mind telling me what all the _noise_ is about?” Black Hat said irritably from outside the kitchen. He walked in only to stop dead in his tracks, eye widening, when he saw the state Flug was in.

            “Oh! Sir!” Flug said, the smile still present. He scurried over to Black Hat, socks slipping on the tile. Black Hat took half a step back, looking his scientist up and down, still wide-eyed.

            “Flug, why in the Nine Hells are you standing in the kitchen in your underwear?” he asked.

            “The serum I made works,” Flug explained. “The one that removes all fear and inhibitions! I ran out of test subjects last night, so I decided to take some myself. I’ll have to run some tests to see how powerful it is, and tweak it a little bit so that its effects occur immediately, but it definitely works.”

            “And how exactly do you know that?” Black Hat said, skeptical.

            “If I felt half as anxious as I normally do about my appearance, I would have rather jumped out the window than be standing here in my underwear.”

            “…Fair enough. Get to testing as soon as you can. And for God’s sake, doctor, put some damn clothes on.”

            “Sure thing, BH.”

            Black Hat scowled. “ _Excuse_ me?”

            “Oh yeah,” Flug said. “Sometimes I call you that in my head. _Jefecito_ too.” Demencia snorted into her coffee and began to choke.

            “Do you fear death, Flug?” Black Hat growled, hackles raising.

            Flug blinked up at his employer as he towered over him. “Not at the moment.”

            Black Hat froze and composed himself. “Right.” He exited the kitchen without another word.

            “Oh my _God,”_ Demencia wheezed, giggling. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

* * *

 

            “We good to go Cam Bot?”

            The robot gave a thumbs-up with one of its many arms.

            Flug, now fully-clothed but still bag free, held up a small white board with the words _Test One_ while looking into Cam Bot’s lens. “I’ll be recording my tests of Intrepid in the event that I get killed during them, which is possible. For test one, Demencia will try to scare me. I have no idea how or when she’ll be doing it, so the element of surprise is still there.”

            On the last word, Demencia popped up from behind him and let out an ear-piercing shriek. Flug winced and rubbed his temple, but was otherwise unfazed. She pouted and sulked offscreen while Flug erased the whiteboard. That was test one finished. A whiteboard marker was plucked from his lab coat pocket. It squeaked as he wrote something down before flipping the whiteboard back around.

            “Test two will test my reflexes. They stem from fear and anxiety, which, in small amounts, keeps people alert of their surroundings. Seeing that mine have been completely erased, my reflexes should be slower,” Flug said. He walked over to a corner of the lab that had been cleared of equipment and stood against the wall. 5.0.5 lumbered up, arms full of tennis balls. His eyebrows were knit together and he whined at Demencia as she approached.

            “Of course this is a good idea! It’s not like Flug would design a test that could kill him!” she said. She grabbed a tennis ball from the bear and hurled it at Flug with all her might. It hit him smack in the forehead, and he reached to catch it a second later. This continued with similar results; soon Flug had been pelted with enough tennis balls to supply ten professional players for an entire season.

            “Pain hasn’t been eliminated,” Flug noted as he rubbed at his stomach. “And while having Demencia, a very strong woman capable of throwing a ball up to ninety miles per hour, throw them at me I don’t believe tennis balls are a particularly fear-inducing object.”

            Demencia and 5.0.5 watched Flug open a cabinet full of various surgical instruments. He looked around at the scalpels, bone saws, dental drills, and other things that would have made someone afraid of the doctor’s office nauseated. 5.0.5 whined, his ears flat against his head. Even Demencia looked a little hesitant, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

            “Uh, doc? Is me throwing any of that stuff at you really a good idea?” she said.

            “You’re right." He turned his gaze towards her. "Do you have any throwing knives?”

            “Seriously?”

            “You don’t have to aim for any dangerous places.”

            Demencia sighed and left the lab. She came back a few minutes later, a few knives in her hands. Clearly hesitant, she threw one at the scientist, who watched it embed itself in the wall three feet away from him with a _thunk._ Flug raised an accusing eyebrow at her. She shrugged and threw another one. 5.0.5 winced when it grazed Flug’s arm. The rest of the knives did the same thing, either missing the scientist by a hair or just barely hitting him.

            “Reflexes are clearly inhibited,” Flug said. “It should also be noted that rather than flinching from pain, as is the usual response, my reaction was to simply acknowledge that it was there. That’s all for test two. No need to keep recording, Cam Bot.” Cam Bot nodded, and Flug moved it to its usual spot before powering it down.

            He turned to Demencia. “You could have thrown those with more accuracy.”

            She shrugged, retrieving her knives. “As much as I like fucking with you, I don’t want to kill you.”

            “Fair enough.” Flug yawned and shrugged off his lab coat, folding it up and setting it on the floor as he laid down.

            “What are you doing?” Demencia asked, an eyebrow raised.

            “Taking a nap.”

            “What if Black Hat comes in? He’ll be pissed if he catches you sleeping on the job.”

            Flug yawned again. “If he doesn’t want me to take naps, he shouldn’t work me so hard. I’m sleep-deprived.”

            “Your funeral,” Demencia said. She skipped out of the lab, followed by 5.0.5, who cast a concerned look at Flug over his shoulder. Flug didn’t notice. He was already asleep, curled up on his side.


	2. But Not One Without Folly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug makes some questionable decisions.

            Black Hat was used to dealing with the incompetence of his employees. The bear was utterly useless, Demencia was outright annoying, and Flug was a trembling mess who often made devices that blew up in his face. He had his reasons to keep them around, though; 5.0.5 did an alright job of keeping the manor clean, Demencia did every bit of dirty work he needed, and, as much as the demon hated to admit it, there would be no Black Hat Inc. without Flug’s inventions.

            Of course, that didn’t excuse him from sleeping on the job.

            Black Hat stood over the slumbering doctor, arms crossed and glaring. If looks could kill, Flug would have burst into flames. Who exactly did he think he was? Sure, he ran almost solely on coffee and seldom went to bed before three in the morning, but naps were out of the question. Not to mention naps _in the middle of the lab._ Time was money after all.

            Black Hat stooped down and flicked Flug in the forehead with a sharpened claw. Flug yawned and opened his eyes, blinking sleepily up at his employer. Black Hat grinned, though there was no trace of mirth in his expression.

            “Good morning.”

            “Oh, hello _jefecito,”_ Flug said. There was that pet name again, the one that made Black Hat freeze up.

            “Have a nice nap?” he asked as he leaned closer. His voice dripped with menace, an attempt to both frighten his employee and hide his—what was it, embarrassment? No, of course it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

            “It was pretty nice until you woke me up,” Flug grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He still hadn’t moved.

            Black Hat crossed his arms tighter in anger, his grin turning into a deep scowl. He opened his mouth in preparation to ask Flug who exactly he thought he was talking to when he remembered. The serum. Of course. At first, he thought having a fearless Flug would be a refreshing change of pace. In reality, it was annoying as all Hell. He couldn’t be intimidated. Black Hat straightened, arms still crossed. Flug eventually sat up, stretching his arms over his head and tilting his head to the side until his neck popped. He had fresh cuts on his arms.

            “What are these?” Black Hat demanded, grabbing Flug’s wrist.

            “I believe they’re my arms, sir,” Flug said.

            “Are you being smart with me?” the demon growled. “I meant the cuts, you idiot.”

            “Demencia was throwing knives at me.”

 _“What?”_ As entertaining as it was to see his employees bicker, he simply would not accept them trying to kill each other.

            “It was part of the experiments with Intrepid. We were testing my reaction time.” Flug stood up and put on his lab coat. “It’s all on Cam Bot.”

            “Part of the—?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

            “Well, I guess that would be a way to test my fear of death and personal injury.” Flug rubbed his chin in thought, staring at the ground as the gears in his mind turned. “Maybe I could pay a visit to a few heroes. We know where a few of their headquarters are, right?”

            “No. Absolutely not,” Black Hat snapped.

            “But sir, it would be to test just how powerful this serum is,” Flug argued. “If I break in to the lair of a hero who we offended in one way or another, there’s a high chance that they would beat the shit out of me.”

            “Exactly why I forbid it! The bloody thing obviously works! You had Demencia throwing knives at you and were caught sleeping on the job without so much as a flinch! As refreshing as it is to not have you be a stuttering, sniveling mess, you’re being an even _bigger_ moron than usual!” Black Hat was bristling with fury. “I will not allow you to get yourself killed or put in any more danger! _Do you understand?”_

            Flug sighed. “Yes.”

            Black Hat nodded once, satisfied. “Good. Now clean up those cuts and come up with a way to administer this…Intrepid.” He briskly walked out of the lab, the door slamming behind him. Flug sighed and got to work on a blueprint.

* * *

 

            Of course he didn’t listen to Black Hat. Risks be damned, Flug wanted to test just how fearless he was, and if he got killed in the process, he could die knowing that it was for science. He still worked on the blueprint for a sort of extremely high-pressure squirt gun to administer the substance, if only to make his boss think that he wasn’t planning on sneaking out of the manor in the middle of the night. His brain whirred, filing through names of heroes they’d recently dealt with that would want to beat him to a pulp. Suddenly, a better idea came to mind.

            Heroes were petty, self-righteous, and willing to act revenge on people. Villains, on the other hand, were much more vicious. While a hero would be unlikely to kill, a villain would do it without hesitation or remorse. The perfect candidate to test Flug’s invention was just across town: Silver Swan. The members of Black Hat Inc. had raided her lair for a rare and expensive element when she tried to charge them for a price that was ridiculous, even by Black Hat’s standards. Her henchmen had attempted several raids on the manor since then, which had all failed. They had been the majority of Flug’s human test subjects. Surely, now that they’d stolen what belonged to her and killed members of her team, she’d want to get revenge on them.

            Flug waited until the sun was below the horizon to wrap up his work on the glorified squirt gun, grab a weapon, and sneak out of the house. He’d done it with Demencia a few times—though the attempts mostly failed. Black Hat almost always caught them, barking at them to get back to work before he tore their arms off and put them where their legs were supposed to be. Today seemed to be Flug’s lucky day; Black Hat was nowhere to be found as he snuck around the manor and slipped out a back door.

He pushed a button on the back wall of the house. The ground opened up and a garage appeared out of it, full of expensive cars that Black Hat had either bought or stolen from particularly wealthy heroes. Flug had been explicitly warned to never touch one of the vehicles, let alone drive one. He entered the garage and snatched a random set of keys from a row of pegs. A look at the key fob told him that he’d chosen the Jaguar.

            The inside of the car still smelled new; these were hardly used. They were more a show of wealth and power than anything. The seats were soft black leather, and the paint job on the outside was a deep, pearlescent red. Flug inserted the key, and the engine flared to life with a growl. He couldn’t help but grin as he pulled out of the garage and into the street. Driving something so luxurious was almost as thrilling as flying a plane. The gas pedal hit the floor, and Flug was zipping through the city, many miles above the speed limit and without a seatbelt.

            Silver Swan’s lair was on the other side of the city, on the outskirts. Flug parked on the street, a few hundred feet away from the gray building. It was a small, abandoned warehouse—much less conspicuous than Black Hat’s manor. A smart move on her part. She couldn’t afford to be as obnoxiously extravagant and narcissistic as the eldritch was.

            Flug neared the lair, looking around for a place to enter that wasn’t the front door. As impressive as it would be to get in that way, it would also be very, _very_ stupid. He spied a side door as someone emerged from the building. A small flicker of light was followed by the wispy silhouette of smoke, indicating they were smoking a cigarette. Flug walked up to the side of the building, standing just outside the circle of light created by the light on the wall.

            The man leaning against the wall took the cigarette out of his mouth and squinted in Flug’s direction. “Who’s there?”

            Flug responded by aiming his weapon at the man’s heart and pulling the trigger. A small silver ball came out of the barrel, unfolding into three arms with blades on the ends. The arms burrowed into the man’s torso, and he barely had time to open his mouth to scream before his body went rigid and he fell dead on the ground. Flug smirked as he put the gun in his pocket and stepped inside. He entered a wide hallway, the gray walls washed nearly white by the artificial light. It was empty and silent, so Flug walked through it without trouble.

            The trouble came when he went through the door at the end and into room full of henchmen.

            It seemed to be a sleeping quarters of some sort. There were beds, a few dressers, a mirror or two, and all the usual things that you would find in a bedroom. There were only four people there, conversing with one another and standing by another door. Flug fired his gun at two of them without so much as blinking. He stood with his hands behind his back, waiting, as the other two snapped their heads in Flug’s direction, mouths hanging open. His mouth twitched into a smirk. Most henchmen were so simple minded.

            “Is Silver Swan around?” he asked nonchalantly. One of the henchmen took a step forward but stopped when he raised his weapon.

            “Who’s asking?” she said.

            “Does that really matter when I have a gun pointed at your face?” Flug watched in satisfaction as she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She looked at her partner, who shrugged in defeat. With a sigh, the woman jerked her head towards the door. Flug followed her through it.

            “Walk straight at the first crossing, then take a left. You can’t miss her office; it’s a huge silver door shaped like a swan,” the henchwoman said.

            Flug pressed the barrel of the gun into the small of her back. “You’re telling me the truth, right?”

            “Y-yes, I promise!”

            Flug smiled. “Good. Thank you.” He pulled the trigger and walked away, listening to her scream for a few moments before falling silent. He followed her directions, and sure enough, he came to a door shaped like a swan. The silver surface was so polished he could see his reflection in it. The door creaked as he pushed it open.

            The office of Silver Swan was just about as big as Black Hat’s, but much less grand. The floors were polished white wood, with light blue paint on the walls. The villain herself sat behind a desk, reading some sort of document. Her silver eyes flitted up when he entered, lips painted black in a scowl. She rose to her full height after considering Flug for a moment, flicking her long white hair off her shoulders and crossing her arms.

            “You’re not one of my henchmen.”

            “Guess you don’t recognize me without the bag over my head,” Flug said as he twirled the gun in between his fingers.

            Swan’s eyebrows raised. “Dr. Flug? What are you doing here?”

            He shrugged. “It’s part of a test. Just seeing if I’m afraid of you. Which I’m not.” She grinned darkly.

            “Well, doctor, if it’s fear you want…it’s fear you’ll get.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Flug, what mess have you gotten yourself into now?


	3. Predator and Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courage fades at the most inconvenient times.

            5.0.5 knew something was wrong as soon as he saw that Flug wasn’t in his lab.

            It wasn’t late by anyone’s standards, and certainly not Flug’s. It was only nine-thirty when 5.0.5 popped into the lab to see if Flug was there. He found a silent, empty lab. Flug was nowhere in sight. Confused, he went to the kitchen. The scientist could often be found there making coffee. He wasn’t there either, so 5.0.5 checked his room. Again, empty.

            The bear whined and scratched on Demencia’s door to get her attention. She opened it a moment later, glaring up at him. “What do you want? I’m busy!”

            5.0.5 whimpered and gestured towards Flug’s door.

            “He’s not here? Not even in the lab, huh?” Demencia asked, eyebrows raised. 5.0.5 shook his head. “Weird. Where do you think he went?” When 5.0.5 shrugged, she suggested they ask Black Hat. The bear gulped but agreed.

            Demencia heard grumbling when she knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer. She knocked again, and Black Hat snarled, “Go away!”

            “Flug’s not here!” Demencia yelled.

            The door opened almost immediately. “What?”

            “5.0.5 said that Flug wasn’t in his lab,” Demencia said.

            “What about his room? Or the kitchen making coffee?” Black Hat asked.

            “Not there either.”

            Black Hat clenched his fists at his sides. “That idiotic, moronic, _pitiful excuse for a scientist!”_ He stormed past Demencia and 5.0.5, his door slamming behind him.

            “Do you know where he is?” Demencia asked.

            “I have an idea,” Black Hat growled. “And when I get there, I’m going to kill him.” With a snap of his fingers, he vanished.

* * *

 

            Flug was standing in a large room in Silver Swan’s lair, a part of the warehouse that hadn’t been repurposed. He recognized it; it was the storage area that he, Black Hat, Demencia, and 5.0.5 had broken into a few months prior. His weapon had been taken when he’d been dragged here, but he wasn’t too worried. After all, he was alone. Or he thought he was at least.

            Silver Swan emerged from behind a huge crate, that same dark smile on her face. She was wearing a skintight jumpsuit colored silver and light blue, and her long hair was in a ponytail. A belt with several knives strapped to it was around her waist. There was also a sheath at her hip, clearly a sword of some kind. She approached Flug slowly, gray feathered wings unfurling behind her.

            “Recognize this place, doctor?” she asked, gesturing widely.

            “Yep,” Flug said. “But I’m used to seeing it filled with more dead people and with a hole in the wall.”

            Silver Swan smirked. “If this goes the way I think it will, the dead body will be taken care of.”

            “So you’re going to kill me?”

            “Well, yes. But most likely not in the way you’re thinking.” She pulled a knife out of her belt. “You have ten seconds. Start running.”

            “Wait, what?”

            “One.” The villain flapped her wings, launching herself into the air.

            Flug’s eyes widened. He felt his heart rate pick up.

            “Two.”

            Flug bolted. Silver Swan’s laughter echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and in his brain. This was bad. This was bad, this was _oh so very bad._ He was on another villain’s turf, weaponless, and running for his life. What the hell had he been thinking in coming here?! He ducked as a knife flew over his head and bounced off a metal container in front of him. Intrepid had clearly worn off. Whether it was a good or a bad thing was up to interpretation; Flug’s reflexes were back to normal, which was good, but he was absolutely terrified.

            _Black Hat is going to kill me for not listening to him,_ Flug thought. He ducked into an open shipping container, holding his breath as he heard the flap of enormous wings overhead. He had to get out of here. There had to be a door. A place where shipments came in, _something._ The scientist let himself catch his breath before running out into the open again, sprinting towards the wall.

            “Where are you, Flug?” Silver Swan said in a singsong voice. “Run all you like little scientist! You’ll run out of steam eventually, and when you do, I’ll find you!”

            Flug couldn’t help it. He whimpered. He felt like a mouse being chased by a hawk who liked to screw with its prey. His eyes were constantly moving, searching for another hiding spot or for a door. A yelp escaped him when a knife grazed his shoulder, ripping both his lab coat and his skin. He didn’t dare look up to see how close his pursuer was. Instead, he turned and ran in the opposite direction, towards the opposite wall. If he could go back the way he came, maybe he’d be able to get through the warehouse and run away. Then he remembered the henchmen roaming the building and mentally groaned.

            “Got you,” Silver Swan said from above him. Flug jumped out of the way a split second before she landed on the concrete in a crouch, the tips of her feathers brushing the floor. He looked around frantically as she stood up for some sort of weapon. A thick plank of wood was on the floor, next to an empty pallet. Flug snatched it up. As Silver Swan reached for her sword, he charged forward and swung it at her temple. It made contact with a loud crack, and a nail sticking out of the wood snagged on her skin. She stumbled backwards, holding the side of her head, and Flug ran past her. He gave her a shove for good measure and heard her crash into something.

            _Door, door, door, door,_ Flug thought desperately as he made his way along the perimeter of the room. The only door he’d seen was one that led deeper into the warehouse, based on the hallway that was visible through its small window. He let out a cry of relief as a rolling door in the corner came into view. He skidded to a halt and slammed on the button near it. Nothing happened. Flug pushed it again and again, but the door still wouldn’t budge.

            “You really think I’d have that unlocked?” Silver Swan spat. Flug spun around to see her stalking towards him, teeth bared and eyes burning. Blood dripped down the side of her head, and she had a few small tears in the sleeves of her jumpsuit.

            “I-I’d hoped,” Flug stuttered. He backed away the closer she got until he was pressed up against the wall, trembling. His chest heaved; his brain was screaming at him to run, but his legs felt like lead. He couldn’t move. The villain inched closer, her snarl slowly transforming into a menacing grin. She was clearly enjoying watching him squirm.

            “Seems like you’re afraid now,” she said. She drew her sword slowly. Flug winced at the sound of scraping metal.

            “Would it make a diff-difference if I told you I wasn’t exactly thinking straight when I c-came here?” he said.

            Silver Swan laughed. “Nice try, but no.” Her sword, thin and elegant, was pointed at Flug’s throat. “You still came in here, killed my lackeys, and dared to challenge me. All mistakes that would lead to your inevitable demise.”

            “And _your_ mistake was threatening my scientist.”

            Silver Swan’s eyes widened as black tendrils wrapped around her arms and legs. Her sword clattered to the ground, and she was raised into the air. Flug felt relief crash over him when Black Hat came into view, looking up at the woman in his grasp with distaste.

            “ _Jefecito!”_ Flug said breathlessly. He was dizzy from experiencing so many emotions in quick succession: fear, frustration, fear again, and then overwhelming relief.

            “Don’t get too excited Flug. You’re not off the hook,” Black Hat growled.

            “Y-yes sir.”

            Black Hat nodded and looked back at the struggling villain in his tentacles. “Now what to do with you? I could just kill you now. But, it wasn’t exactly your fault this idiot ended up here.” He rubbed his chin in thought as Silver Swan snarled curses at him. “I suppose I’ll just let you off with a warning.”

            Silver Swan’s string of insults was cut off abruptly as she was slammed against the wall. Black hat let go of her, sending her crashing to the floor in a heap. She groaned and moved to stand, but the tentacles were back on her before she could get up. Flug winced as he heard the snapping of bones. Black Hat tossed her into the air and she flew in an arc, landing with a crash into a pile of wooden crates. The demon grabbed Flug’s wrist, and with another snap of his fingers, they were outside the warehouse.

            Flug was shaking. It finally registered that he didn’t have his paper bag; he felt exposed and vulnerable. How had he gone a whole day like this? Black Hat still hadn’t let go of his wrist, and feeling the vice-like grip only made his panic escalate. He was dead. Black Hat had rescued him from Silver Swan just so he could kill him himself. The world spun as Flug began to hyperventilate. His vision blurred, it hurt to breathe, every sound other than the frantic beating of his own heart was a dissonant echo.

            “Flug! Calm down!” Black Hat said. His voice was far away. Flug felt icy claws on his face, cupping his cheeks. The shock of the cold anchored him somewhat, and his boss’ voice no longer sounded like it was underwater. His breathing slowed, and the world began to come back into focus.

            “S-sorry sir,” Flug said once he fully recovered. He felt himself wobble, and he grabbed Black Hat’s wrists for stability. The demon’s hands were still on his face. He looked up into his eyes, black pinpricks full of irritation—and with a slight trace of concern.

            “You know I don’t handle crying well,” Black Had warned as Flug’s eyes welled with tears.

            “R-right,” Flug sniffed. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his lab coat and took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

            “Are you alright?”

            Flug nodded. He didn’t want to try to talk at the moment; one word and he’d burst into tears. Of relief or fear, he wasn’t sure.

            “Good. Look at me, Flug.” Flug looked up at his employer, who was staring down at him with his arms crossed. “You’re lucky you’re so predictable. I don’t know if I would have gotten here in time otherwise.”

            “How did you know I was here?” Flug asked.

            “It’s obvious. As clueless as you can be, you are intelligent. Intelligent enough to know that you would be in more danger if you invaded a villain’s lair rather than a hero’s, thereby increasing the chance that you’d die. You were testing your fear of death, so I visited a few villains who we’ve recently pissed off until I got here,” Black Hat explained. His eye narrowed. “You’ve cost me a lot of time.”

            “I’m sorry,” Flug said quietly. His cheeks burned hot with shame. He just wanted to go home.

            “Don’t _ever_ disobey me again,” the demon growled. “Or there will be dire consequences.”

            “Yes, _jefeci—_ I mean, Black Hat sir.”

            Black Hat cleared his throat. “I…suppose you can keep calling me that if you’re going to accidentally say it all the time now. It’s less annoying than you scrambling to try and correct yourself.”

            Flug dared to let a small smile form on his lips. “Alright.”

            Black Hat nodded once. “Now, how did you even get here?”

            Flug dug in his jeans pocket for the keys to the Jaguar, smiling sheepishly as he held them up. Black Hat glared and snatched them from him. The scientist led the way to the car, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders tense. Part of him longed to be void of fear again, but when he remembered where that had gotten him, he decided that being anxious was better than being dead. He got in the passenger seat of the Jaguar and put on his seatbelt as Black Hat started the car. The warehouse grew distant in the rearview mirror as they silently drove away.

            “Flug?” Black Hat said, breaking the silence.

            “Yes, sir?” Flug responded.

            Black Hat hesitated and cleared his throat, an odd expression on his face. Flug swore he saw a trace of darker black in his cheeks, but he couldn't be sure in the dim light. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

            Flug smiled. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write! I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) Thank you so much for reading! <3


End file.
